


Prime Mover

by NeurotropicAgentX



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Hatred, Minor Violence, Non-Consensual Symbiosis, Other, POV Rapist, Rape, Xeno, minor jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 06:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeurotropicAgentX/pseuds/NeurotropicAgentX
Summary: Riot had once asked him why humans bothered with recreational sex when masturbation was essentially the same thing. Rather than detailing mammalian pair-bonding, Drake had explained that another person’s unpredictable touch felt different. This was opportunity for a practical demonstration and the fact that Drake could use Brock’s body for it sent a hot little thrill through him.‘Sick bastard,’ Brock rasped now that Riot was letting him talk again.Drake ignored him. ‘Get him back on his feet. And get rid of his shirt,’ he added as an afterthought.





	Prime Mover

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](https://venomkink.dreamwidth.org/1142.html?thread=2678#cmt2678) prompt on [venomkink](https://venomkink.dreamwidth.org/). 
> 
> Many thanks to my editor for her invaluable assistance.

Drake sighed, looking at the determined clench of Brock’s jaw and the desolation in his eyes. He wasn’t sure why Brock had extricated himself from Venom. Whether it had been a way of keeping the symbiote away from Drake or Riot, or if there had been some sort of incompatibility. He could easily imagine what it would feel like. Being without Riot would be… a worst-case scenario. 

‘Even if he knows something, he’s not going to talk,’ Drake said, speaking aloud for Brock’s benefit. ‘I’ll have him disposed of.’

Riot had been prowling restlessly in the confines of Drake’s body, but now it stilled. **I could make him talk.**

Drake’s lip curled. ‘I hope you’re not talking about torture. It’s ineffective. The victim will tell you anything they think you want to hear just to make you stop.’ He watched Brock as he spoke. The sullen glare didn’t shift an inch. Brock was either past the point of caring, or hiding it well. 

**Not torture. I could bond with him. Find out what he knows.**

Drake’s gut gave a sickly lurch. ‘You’re bonded with me,’ he said, not quite able to keep the snarl out of his voice. Brock tilted his head to one side. His expression was still hostile, but he seemed more interested in the proceedings than before.

A soothing feeling emanated from Riot’s half of their shared consciousness. **Yes. You are my optimal host. Not like the other humans. This is for necessity only, not desire.**

Drake turned his back on Brock. It was bad enough to have lost control in front of someone else, let alone this _cretin_ who’d been stupid enough to attack the Life Foundation in that interview. What had even been the point? Surely he’d had enough journalistic experience to know that some awkward fumbling on Drake’s part at the unexpected questions wasn’t going to _change_ anything? Certainly not public opinion. He didn’t hate Brock for coming after him, he hated him for doing it so _badly_. That was an insult.

‘Wouldn’t you just end up killing him?’ Drake asked, subvocalising so Riot would be the only one to hear it. A corpse was a bit harder to transport than a living human.

**No. He’s hosted Venom. His body won’t reject anyone now.**

Drake raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that true for me too, now?’

 **Yes. Immunomodulation is instinctual. Most symbiotes aren’t fast at it and kill their host. They require a higher starting level of compatibility. If Venom occupied this host, the body won’t recognise a symbiote as a threat.**

That was interesting. He wanted to take this information back to his scientists, get some blood tests run. Immunology wasn’t his strong point, but he was already forming some vague ideas about applications for transplantation medicine or even things like cancer or vaccine research, if the effects could be flipped in the other direction. Riot probably wouldn’t have the patience for that. It had been pushing hard to try and get things done as soon as possible. That made Drake uneasy, but if Riot’s people were suffering, he could at least understand its urge to _act_. It was the main reason he was considering this. He could feel Riot’s need to locate Venom as a constant background hum, a song he couldn’t get out of their head. 

‘Okay. Do what you have to with Brock.’

Riot’s warm pleasure at his acquiescence rolled through them and it wasn’t entirely clear who took the steps to close the distance between them and Brock.

‘The fuck are you doing, Drake?’ Brock snapped while Drake took the opportunity to really _look_ at him. He remembered watching the footage of Brock moving with Venom. The elegance, the sheer _power_ of it had been breathtaking at the time. And now he was tied down, fully human except for a slightly altered immune system. It was disappointing, somehow. Anticlimactic. 

‘You have to understand that Riot is _quite_ keen to locate Venom,’ Drake said. He was still staring at Brock, barely focusing on the words coming out of his own mouth.

 **Touch him,** Riot said, an odd note in its tone.

Drake could understand exactly why Riot didn’t want to spend even a second in Earth’s atmosphere without the protection of a host. He reached out. Brock jerked away from the touch, but there wasn’t anywhere for him to go. Maybe he was still expecting to be able to force his way out of the restraints, still feeling the ghost of Venom’s power.

Riot slid out from the interstitial places it had been occupying in Drake’s body. The sensation was wrenching. Deep loss welled up from under Drake’s diaphragm. His vision faded in and out and his legs trembled beneath the weight of his own body. He had to brace himself over Brock, his hands white-knuckled where he gripped the arms of the chair, gripped Brock. He almost missed the sight of Riot melting into Brock’s body. 

A strange respect for Brock rose in him. ‘How were you even standing?’ he rasped. If Brock had parted with Venom to keep it safe from him or Riot, it was probably the most altruistic thing he’d ever done in his life. This felt like dying.

 **‘This body is compatible enough.’** Brock’s body, Riot’s words. Strange, to hear that voice coming from outside his skull. It used Brock’s mouth to speak, but the voice held a deep thrum that wasn’t quite human. Drake wondered what that was doing to Brock’s vocal cords. Nothing that Riot couldn’t fix, probably. If it was bothering for a temporary, inferior host. 

Brock’s body shifted against the restraints, the movement a little too fluid, and Drake took a couple of steps back. The body stilled when it met resistance and then with a wrench, it freed its arms. Brock’s body looked at him and grinned. 

Drake’s mouth went dry. It was like being back in the control room, watching a perfect symbiosis leap and fight and _kill_. ‘Can you find what you’re looking for?’ Drake asked as neutrally as he could. 

The expression left Brock’s face entirely as Riot turned its attention inward. A small eternity passed for Drake. Each breath without Riot inside him gradually became easier. Drake didn’t know how he felt about that. 

**‘No’** , Riot said after a moment **‘This host knows nothing about Venom’s location.’**

Drake rounded on them. ‘Really? He was smart enough to manage that much? I’m _stunned_.’ At every turn Brock seemed to be there, blundering around and interfering with Drake’s plan to save humanity. He was the epitome of the short-sighted, narrow-minded ingrates that Drake was sinking billions of dollars into saving. 

Drake closed the distance between them in two quick steps. His hand curled into a fist and he punched Brock square in the jaw. Brock’s head snapped to one side with the force of the blow. Drake’s hand stung and he shook it out. His instincts had been getting more physical lately, but this time Riot wasn’t there to lend him more strength or repair the bruising across his knuckles.

A cold feeling slid down Drake’s spine. He hadn’t meant to… that was impulsive and stupid of him and… ‘Riot?’ he asked tentatively. 

Brock’s head turned slowly and tilted up. His teeth were bared in a grin and blood welled from a small cut across his lip. Riot wasn’t bothering to patch the wound. **‘Hm?’**

‘I’m sorry I did that. I wasn’t thinking. Brock has been… a frustration.’

The grin on Brock’s face widened into something inhuman. A too-long tongue flicked out and swept over the spot of blood. **‘Don’t be sorry,’** said Riot with Brock’s mouth. **‘He’s not my optimal host. I don’t have to share it if I don’t want to.’**

Those words warmed Drake. His eyes flicked over Brock’s body with fascination. ‘Is Brock… there?’

 **‘I’ve left him entirely aware. Just without control. And I made sure he felt that.’** Riot paused, assessing. **You could do it again,’** it offered.

Drake stared. His pulse had kicked up and there was a rushing sound in his ears. It almost felt like Riot was back inside him for a moment. His knuckles throbbed and he wetted his lips. ‘Are you sure?’

Riot chuckled. It was an unearthly sound that raised the hairs on the back of Drake’s neck. **‘This host _hates_ you. I like the taste of that, bitter and rich and thick.’**

Drake knew that Riot could feel what he felt when they were in symbiosis. It had described emotions like tastes before, though he suspected that was an imperfect translation of Riot’s sensory experience. They’d even experimented with emotions. Riot was still a bit of a blunt instrument in that respect, able to flood their system with adrenaline or endorphins, but at the cost of subtle variation, of… complex flavours. 

‘And the pain?’ Drake asked quietly. It felt like he was standing on the edge of a deep precipice, but he trusted Riot to catch him. 

**‘His pain. Not mine. I like the taste of that too.’**

A dark urge was welling up from the pit in Drake’s chest that Riot had been occupying. There was something about Brock that got under Drake’s skin. It had been the same during that disastrous interview. Drake _never_ fumbled questions, but he’d been completely caught off guard by some two-bit _ex_ -reporter. He wanted Brock to _hurt_. ‘Make him stand up.’ 

Riot pulled off the rest of the restraints with casually inhuman strength and stood. The alien fluidity of its movements was mesmerising, but not quite enough to overcome the fact that it was wearing _Brock’s_ face. Drake laid a hand on their shoulder just as he drove his other fist into Brock’s gut. Riot grunted and swayed with the impact, but it straightened up after a moment. It wasn’t quite right, not quite _enough_.

‘Is there a midway option?’ Drake demanded, barely recognising the sound of his own voice. ‘How much of Brock can you let out without losing control of him?’

Riot gave a pleased hum that rumbled through the room. It lifted one of Brock’s arms and flexed the hand. **‘As much as you want,’** it said.

‘Let him speak. I want to hear him. I want to _know_ he can feel it.’

The too-wide grin disappeared. The expression on Brock’s face was closer to horrified panic now. ‘Drake, listen to me. If you can put aside being a sadistic asshole for five seconds, Riot is bad news. He wants to murder the planet! The symbiotes would occupy everyone they could and _eat_ the rest. I split with Venom because he was _feeding_ off me. Eating my organs and repairing them in real time like the most fucked up kind of horror story!’

‘And yet _I_ feel healthier than I did a decade ago. Maybe Venom got tired of being starved by a meddling, pathetic excuse for a human being,’ Drake hissed. ‘You think I’m going to trust a criminal like you over the symbiote I’ve been sharing a consciousness with? A symbiote who shares my goals to save _both_ our species?’

‘Seriously, you lunatic, can’t you–’

‘Shut up!’ Drake snarled and punched Brock in the face again. The shock of the impact ran up his arm. Drake wasn’t good at this, was already too used to relying on Riot’s strength. 

‘Ow, fuck!’ Brock glared at him and swung his own fist. 

Drake’s eyes had just enough time to widen before the punch… stopped the barest millimetre from his face. Brock was frozen where he stood, even his expression was locked into a scowl and only his eyes moved when Drake reminded himself to breathe and took a step back. ‘You let him get awfully close,’ Drake pointed out, a hint of reproach in his tone. 

Riot’s flesh seeped out from Brock’s shoulders and it manifested a head. **‘It was funny,’** Riot said. Its head weaved back and forth, appearing on one side of Brock’s shoulder and then the other. Drake did not share Riot’s sense of humour, but he could appreciate that Brock didn’t seem to either and he gave a thin smile.

‘Yes, well. I think this is a good level of compromise. It’s fascinating to know what you _can_ do with a human body.’

Brock’s fist lowered slowly and his expression went through an interesting series of shifts. ‘Stop it,’ he snapped. The anger in his tone wasn’t quite enough to disguise the fear. His hand unclenched and fell to his side inhumanly fast.

It took Drake a moment to realise that Brock was talking to Riot. ‘Riot?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Riot’s face was still shifting restlessly around Brock’s shoulders. It looked at Brock from one direction and then the other. Then it ran its tongue up the side of his neck. Brock shivered and Drake wasn’t entirely able to control his own response to the sight. **‘Hm?’** Riot said absently, its face turning toward Drake.

‘What are you doing?’ Drake asked.

**‘This host has an interesting response when I take control.’**

‘Shut up!’ There was only panic in Brock’s tone now. He crashed to his knees on the hard floor and hissed at the pain. ‘Stop _doing_ that,’ he yelped.

Drake’s mouth went dry. Seeing Brock at his feet in the most literal way possible was making his heart race. ‘Interesting how?’ Drake had to swallow a couple of times before he could get the words out. He knew what it felt like to be in perfect symbiosis with Riot. They moved as one being, intention and goals so utterly aligned that it was almost impossible to know which of them was in control. Riot had only taken full control of Drake’s body once or twice, usually reflexively to avoid sudden danger to the body. Drake didn’t entirely care for that sensation, though he didn’t begrudge Riot its occasional moments of full autonomy. 

**‘Hmm, fluttering fizzing taste in his blood. Endorphins. Adrenaline. Savoury fear. He likes it.’**

‘That’s a fucking fear response you sick parasitic monster! Get out of my body, stop tasting my _blood_ ,’ Brock croaked.

Symbiosis was like nothing Drake had ever experienced. The intimacy of it was shattering, nearly unfathomable. He and Riot had experimented with the bond, feeling out the limits of a shared body and what they could do for each other. Drake was completely unashamed by how he responded to Riot. His reactions felt as natural as breathing. Interesting that Brock felt so differently and that he was stupid enough to reveal that particular weakness.

Drake closed the distance between them and he couldn’t tell if it was Brock or Riot that lifted his head so he could glare upward. Hate and fear were warring in his eyes. That combination was doing things to Drake, especially with Riot as a looming presence poised above Brock’s fragile human body. 

Brock’s gaze flicked away from Drake’s face. He paled when he noticed the erection that was spoiling the clean lines of Drake’s pants. ‘You wouldn’t,’ he said haltingly.

 **‘Wouldn’t what? This host’s emotional centres just went into overdrive.’** It paused, considering, as its tendrils shifted around Brock. **‘Tastes good.’**

‘He’s talking about sex,’ Drake explained.

‘I’m talking about rape!’ Brock snapped. ‘What, murder just isn’t doing it for you anymore?’ The angry bravado was almost convincing.

‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand the sacrifices that must be made for scientific progress. Riot? Keep his mouth open and don’t let him bite.’

Brock’s retort was lost as Riot overrode him. 

**‘Lots of fear, and more hate too, when I did that,’** Riot mused. **‘This is interesting. What else can you make him do?’**

Drake gave a thin smile and slid a hand around to cradle the back of Brock’s head. His other hand deftly undid his belt. ‘A little help?’ he asked Riot.

Tendrils extended from Brock’s body, closing the distance between them and helped unfasten Drake’s pants and draw him out. Riot knew about sex from some very satisfying experiences they’d shared together. But they’d never done something like this, with another body in the room. With another _human_. As much as Drake was endlessly fascinated by the sleek deadliness of symbiotes, and of Riot in particular, he couldn’t deny the hindbrain part of himself that found other humans appealing. There was something so wonderfully base about fucking another human, especially like this. Especially with Riot’s alien curiosity focused on them both. 

Drake lined himself up and pushed into Brock’s open mouth. The expression in Brock’s eyes was almost as good as the wet heat of his tongue. Drake thrust deep and it was intoxicatingly good not having to worry about being too rough, to simply _take_ without any concern for the other person. He’d never had that before.

There was sharp movement out of the corner of Drake’s eye. It caught his attention even past the waves of pleasure rolling through him. Riot’s face was shifting and swirling behind Brock’s shoulder. Even without a direct link, Drake could read movements as agitation. He stilled immediately. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked. 

Brock gave a muffled noise of incredulity.

Riot focused its attention on Drake. **‘Not fond of this. Hard not to bite.’** Riot admitted. **‘Especially with how much this host wants to.’**

Drake felt the very lightest graze of Brock’s teeth against his cock and he shuddered. He trusted Riot implicitly, but tempting instincts that it wouldn’t be able to satisfy was simply cruel. Drake pulled back and as soon as he was clear Brock’s teeth snapped together. Riot chuckled while Brock seethed and glared.

Drake’s mind raced as half-formed thoughts started to cohere. ‘I can think of things that you might find more… entertaining.’

After a particularly good session, Riot had once asked him why humans bothered with recreational sex when masturbation was essentially the same thing. Rather than go into detail about mammalian pair-bonding and different pathways to emotional intimacy, Drake had explained that another person’s unpredictable touch felt different. He didn’t consider himself enough of an expert in the other aspects of it to give a more comprehensive answer. Human reward centres reluctantly fascinated Riot and now Drake had the opportunity for a more practical demonstration. The fact that he could use Brock’s body for it sent a hot little thrill through him.

‘Sick bastard,’ Brock rasped now that Riot was letting him talk again.

Drake ignored him. ‘Get him back on his feet. And get rid of his shirt,’ he added as an afterthought.

Riot hummed and a dozen tendrils working in perfect, elegant concert stripped the cheap fabric off Brock’s body. Drake stared at the way Riot’s glistening flesh overlaid Brock’s bare skin as the body stood. It was beautiful. Drake closed the distance between them and caressed a thick tendril that was running down Brock’s sternum. Riot’s face shifted closer and the piece of it beneath Drake’s hand seemed to pulse for a moment. 

Brock’s body was unnaturally still. Riot must be preventing him from flinching back, or maybe from going for Drake’s throat. Smiling to himself, Drake traced down the length of Riot’s tendril to where it melted back beneath Brock’s skin. Then he dug in his blunt, human nails just below the interface and dragged them across Brock’s abdomen. Brock hissed at the sensation and Drake’s gaze flicked up to the grimace stretched across his lips. 

**‘Oh,’** said Riot, surprised pleasure colouring its tone. **‘Better than just hate and fear. Make him do that again.’**

Drake found a smirk curling across his lips without any input from his brain. ‘Like this?’ he asked and clutched at Brock’s bare skin, half expecting more strength, half expecting to have claws that could really leave a mark. He was so used to moving with Riot, to accessing that power and shared biology. It wasn’t the same, but Drake leaned in and bit at Brock’s jaw, his throat. 

**‘Yes.’** Riot’s voice slipped into a register that Drake felt more than heard. 

Brock’s head wrenched back to give Drake better access to the soft, vulnerable skin and the racing pulse of his carotid artery. Even through a haze of dark satisfaction, a clinical part of Drake wondered if he’d always had such a strong desire to get Brock’s flesh beneath his teeth or if his symbiosis with Riot had crossed some wires.

A groan slipped from Brock and his hands came up to scrabble at Drake’s back, his sides, seeking purchase or possibly just looking for skin to rake. Drake gasped, his own grip tightening. ‘Is that you, Riot?’ 

**‘Mostly me. Not only me. This is as close to fighting back as I’m letting him get.’**

Drake let his smile show a few more teeth. ‘Fighting back, Brock? Is that because you’re finding it so unpleasant?’ Drake slid a hand down Brock’s stomach and squeezed him through his pants. ‘Or because you’re enjoying it?’ Not waiting for a response, Drake unfastened Brock’s pants and pushed them halfway down his thighs. A piece of Riot was already wound around Brock’s half-hard dick. The sight of alien flesh pulsing against human skin was breathtaking. ‘No wonder,’ Drake murmured. 

‘Stop it.’ Brock’s voice was thick. ‘You know that doesn’t mean anything. You’re both monsters.’ 

‘And you don’t matter,’ Drake replied absently. His eyes were on Riot. He pressed in close to wrap a hand around both his and Brock’s erections and he squeezed just a little too hard. Riot’s tendrils lashed and it made a sound on the edge of human hearing. It wrapped itself around Drake’s wrist again and halfway down his arm. Maybe he was projecting, but Drake felt like Riot was anchoring itself.

 **‘More,’** Riot demanded. Its face shifted beside Brock’s left shoulder. Its teeth seemed to elongate and its tongue slid out so it could lick a stripe up the side of Drake’s neck. 

A shudder ran down Drake’s spine and he started jerking both him and Brock in quick efficient strokes. ‘You could have more, just make him–’ 

One of Brock’s hands joined his. **‘Like this.’** It wasn’t a question. Riot was a fast learner. It was a swift and decisive commander who’d managed to navigate an alien planet and find its way to Drake. It had _chosen_ him.

There was barely any space between him and Brock’s body. It would have been oppressive, the heat pouring off them, their hands slick with sweat and Riot’s substance around their cocks. But Drake trusted Riot completely. Trusted it to keep Brock in line, to help Drake save humanity and to lead its own people and humans together into a bright, new destiny. Drake turned his head so could kiss the nearest piece of Riot where it curved over Brock’s shoulder.

The taste was metallic and alien under his tongue. Riot’s flesh pulsed against his lips, caressed the side of his face. The inhuman sound of Riot’s appreciation filled the room. Then Brock’s teeth bit hard into Drake’s neck and it was impossible to know which of them was responsible. Bright pain flared against Drake’s skin, heady and sweet. A heartbeat later, it eased and Drake felt Brock’s hot breath on his skin instead. Little sounds escaped from Brock, halfway between sobs and moans.

Drake rutted desperately into his hand and against Brock. Riot’s tendrils were writhing against his body in a completely unpredictable way and Drake was going light-headed as he struggled to remember when he’d last taken a breath. His instincts were shot, his whole autonomic nervous system was shot, and all he wanted was more of that slick pressure, more of Riot surrounding his body from the outside, and more of those defeated mostly-human noises in his ear.

The hand around his cock tightened. His, Brock’s, Riot’s, it didn’t matter. His hips jerked forward. He was pulled forward. His free hand clawed at Brock, at Riot, as a wave of pleasure crashed over him. The sharp sound he made was muffled against Riot’s flesh and every thought in his head evaporated in one blissful moment. Brock was shaking against him too, as violently as if he were being torn apart. The cry he gave was purely human and the twisted, broken sound of it was perfect.

Then there was silence, broken only by the sound of human panting. They were breathing in sync, him and Brock. For a moment it almost felt like symbiosis. One breath, one body. But it wasn’t right, not even close to enough. ‘Riot?’ Drake croaked. He didn’t need to say more than that.

The tendrils against his skin shifted again, but this felt like cold purpose rather than idle exploration. Drake shivered as Riot melted back beneath his skin. He swayed forward as strange aftershocks lit up random nerve clusters throughout his body. 

The warm surface he was braced against stepped back sharply. Drake pitched toward the floor, but Riot caught them in a heartbeat, the movement becoming fluid and graceful. Their gaze flicked up predator-fast and they wrapped a hand around Brock’s throat, lifting him off the floor. ‘That wasn’t very nice,’ said Drake, said Riot, as their claws grazed the path of Brock’s jugular. 

Brock’s hands scrabbled at the slick flesh wrapped around his throat. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t get the words out. A surge of hunger and bloodlust washed over Drake and for a moment they wanted nothing more than to bite off Brock’s head and swallow it down. 

**Wait, don’t kill him. Venom will be back for this one. The host may not understand, but when I was inside him I could see what he meant to it. Let him go and keep watch. Venom will reclaim him and then it will come after me. One way or another.**

Drake blinked. Instincts and impulses roared through him. Trying to sort himself out from Riot was… difficult. This was… He let Brock drop to the floor and his hand clenched and unclenched in the empty air. Yes. Venom. The reason Riot had entered Brock in the first place. Drake took a few careful breaths and centred himself. He had to make this convincing. ‘You’re lucky I prefer not to get my hands dirty,’ he said. 

Brock had fallen to his hands and knees and was preoccupied with coughing and wheezing. Drake and Riot left the room. The security team would need to be briefed to stay out of Venom’s way. Riot thought trying to capture Venom with humans was futile and it wasn’t keen on sharing symbiote weaknesses with Drake’s staff to tip the balance. 

Riot busied itself healing the minor scrapes and bruises Drake had picked up. It even sent thin tendrils out between Drake’s skin and his clothes to straighten his suit. He’d be perfectly presentable by the time he talked to his people. Then Riot extended itself right through Drake’s body, deliberately sliding along his nerves so Drake could feel it. Maybe it was feeling territorial in the wake of its return. That was a nice thought, but there was a touch of restlessness in the way it was moving that felt a lot like agitation. 

‘Are you alright?’ Drake subvocalised.

Riot went still inside him for a moment. An odd sensation. **Yes,** it replied shortly, resuming its exploration and repair. There was another beat of silence before it spoke again. **I understand what you meant now. It’s different with someone else. Another body.**

‘Mm. There are also elements of mammalian pair-bonding, secretion of oxytocin and other hormones by both parties. Though I’m not sure how that goes with someone who doesn’t want to be there. I will admit that endocrinology isn’t really my field.’ 

**Pair-bonding,** Riot repeated. It didn’t sound particularly pleased.

Drake gave a mirthless chuckle. ‘You don’t have to worry that I’ve developed a sudden attachment to Brock.’

 **No. Not to Brock. I.** Riot cut itself off with a growl that sounded like grating metal. The noise echoed pleasantly inside Drake’s skull. **The mission has to come first. No more distractions until after we’ve helped my people and brought them here. No matter how much – no matter what.**

‘Of course. I couldn’t agree more. But afterwards, when we’ve forged our new world, maybe then we could afford… distractions. You and I.’

A wordless sense of eagerness with only the mildest hint of trepidation flowed through their link. **Maybe. A lot of things will change in the new world.**

Riot’s eagerness for the culmination of their plans was a flutter in the pit of Drake’s stomach. It was a relief to have finally found someone who shared his goals.

**Author's Note:**

> I struggled to get this fic working, because I don't actually think Drake would rape someone for personal gratification. For science? In a heartbeat. But that's pretty unlikely to come up as a scenario. However, I wanted to support the kinkmeme and this was the only prompt involving Drake and Riot. And the idea was pretty hot. So here we are. Thanks for reading!


End file.
